The dealer stood over the prone, cowering boy. A big man, he was bald under his beanie, fat below his puffer jacket and ski coat, red from the from the blood pounding beneath his skin. How dare this boy talk to him like that!
The boy’s breath was a stinking fog of stale excuses as he scrambled back on the tarmac, creaked to his feet.
The dealer charged. Grabbing his prey with sirloin fists, he wrenched him into the air by his collar, and continued screaming. The wretched boy was everything wrong with the world – lazy, entitled, a mess who couldn’t support himself, let alone anyone else, somebody who demanded the world rolled over for him instead of rolling his sleeves up and changing it!